I took my seat in the Tipper Chair, a big blue bib was secured round my neck and whoosh I was up-ended.
The protective glasses were placed over my eyes, the curing light switched on then Mr. W. probed my open mouth with his sharp instrument.
A bloke on the radio was asking questions, I was unable to answer as Mr. W. had his hand in my mouth.
Why is it that all dentists choose Radio 2?
Any dentists out there please elucidate me.
Mr.W. took two impressions, one of my top row and the second of my bottom.
Not my bottom bottom but my lower jaw.
My mouth was wide open for as long as it took for the squashy blue stuff to dry and for Jeremy Vine to complete an interview and put on another piece of music.
Have you noticed that when its imperative to keep the mouth open wide there is always a neurotic need to talk or swallow?
If you’re mouth is open whilst you’re reading this please don’t feel the need to answer back.
I could feel the back of my throat opening and closing as it was dealing with a build up of saliva, I was anxious that it was interfering with the process and giving the wrong impression.
Mr. W. studied the ‘trays’ and said they were okay.
The gum shields were pulled out slowly, for a split second it felt like every last tooth was being dragged out with it
I was recommended to have my teeth bleached. It’s not my style, I don’t like the idea of the ‘gel’, the cost or the effect of blindingly white teeth but Mr. W said that I would benefit from the treatment as I was getting a little long in the tooth. I shall get my ‘trays’ back next week, then I will be given the ‘gel’ and will monitor my own brightness.
I have to be careful I don’t end up looking like Simon Cowell
Mr. W. then squeezed Tempit into the lower left 5. A mouthful of meusli had broken a bit off my filling.
I think fillings and tooth caps are like light bulbs. When one goes they all go.
The Tibetans believe that when a parent dies a tooth dies in sympathy, in my case its not to do with a parent, I lost a back tooth when I left Auntie BeeB now, having left Uncle UKtv, I’m having trouble with my other back tooth.
Mr. W. stepped on the lever and the chair was set in motion, I sat up, took off the bib rinsed my mouth with green minty mouthwash and spat it out into the silver tube.
Job done.
I am going back next Wednesday to collect me trays and have a nice session with the hygenist.
I must be the only person in the world who likes having her teeth sandpapered.
I think its lying on my back, unable to figit, my mouth open, but out of action.
Nobody can talk to me or me to them.
Bliss.
Jeni Barnett
2’s company 3’s a treat
On Sunday I pootled around the flat until it was time to go to LBC.
The show was all about Fussy eating kids, winter risottos, soups and fireworks.
Some callers called, texters texted and Glen e-mailed me from Hamburg.
Annabel Karmel brought in delicious home made white chocolate and cranberry cookies, which we devoured on air. Donna Hay flew in from Australia, Johnny Acton flew in from elsewhere, and Andy Hubble called in from a golf course somewhere in the South of England to talk fireworks and health and safety.
By the time I had traversed London, hit the M25, zoomed down the A21 and forked off towards Lewes – where they take great delight in burning effigies every year – the evening had set in.
I stopped off for a saveloy and chips and a large hunk of cod for the old man.
With the cornet of chips balanced in my lap, I consumed the soggy mass for the final six miles, my little car ended up smelling like a chippy, but when I arrived home I was full to the brim and ready to collapse.
Which is exactly what I did.
Jim arrived home late from filming, B arrived home late from Brighton where she’d been celebrating my eldest step daughters 37th birthday.
The three of us watched a whole pile of recorded programmes and then fell into bed late.
Sausage Tails
The time as come to make this blog more interactive, so here goes.
I took some of my family out to eat. Lunch in a pub. We all had different versions of sausage and mash.
This morning on Radio 4’s ‘Start the Week, with Fi Glover – who by the way is a terrific broadcaster and I choose my words carefully – Daisy Goodwin was flogging her new book and talking about poetry. Daisy has people send in poems to her website, at the end of the week she chooses the best one.
Well I don’t know anything about poems but I know a good sausage when I see it so this week I’m announcing:
DESCRIBE YOUR FAVOURITE SAUSAGE WEEK.
Jack’s Place
I ran. I wrote. I really enjoyed me meal with Jim at JACKS. Jack Talkington was a ‘pound a round’ boxer,he met Jimmy Carter’s brother, who worked for the White House security team so now all of Jack’s restaurant walls are covered with pictures of The American President and lots of other yankee memorabilia. There … Read more
If you could see it through my eyes
It’s 12.15. I’m eating Ryvita. Clarence is asleep in his bed. Jim’s at home in Sussex.
Jackson is on his bed – I’m told. I read an article today by Bruce Fogel the famous vet who’s married to Julia whatshername.
The article made me cry it was all about him having to put his own dog down.
ENOUGH!
The noise of London has receded, the only sound is me crunching through my rye crackers.
(Thank you to you two lovely bloggers who replaced my lost blogs.)
It’s the state of my head today.
Thursday November 1st.
I thought today was Wednesday and yesterday Thursday. I’m all over the place.
I should have run today but since I thought it was yesterday I gave myself Wednesday off! This means I shall have to run tomorrow.
I may not want to though.
It doesn’t matter what you want you have to.
Why?
Because its good for you.
With whom am I having this argument?
You know who!
Shut up you silly bat and get on with it.
Ok!
Idiot Alert
Dear lovely bloggers. I have just accidentally deleted all your lovely comments. I am gutted. If you’ve still got them send them again and I’ll publish them. I’m off to see CABARET now, it’s their first year birthday, I have been invited along with LBC. Forgive me for pressing the wrong button, I know not … Read more
Pop-ups
The sharp air cut through my befuddled head. I meditated, and researched words for the book. So I went and bought washing up liquid and three newspapers from the corner shop. The corner shop is on The Square. Rather than go back to the flat I went into the Lebanese bar. All the waiters are … Read more
The Savages
I was doing my shopping in Waitrose – ok I know its a supermarket but if I have to stock up then at least Waitrose has a conscience. I was wandering round buying bio-degradable bin bags when my phone went.
It was my old producer, Lucy, from LBC.
A news story about the wastage of left over food was being featured on their daily show. Would I like to comment as the food guru for LBC?
Just for a moment I had to take stock. Food Guru?
Rather than decline their offer I had to adjust to my new job description. Food guru! Erroneous, but understandable. I have been fronting a food programme for the last 5 years, so rather than telling Lucy to bog off I agreed.
I ran round the aisles, talking very loudly into my mobile telephone, until I found a signal that was mutually acceptable. It happened to be, quite unintentionally, right next to the cookery book section.
James O’Brien, the host of the day, was put on the line. He’s really clever, funny and a good sport. He threw me a curve ball with his first question ‘Would I ever get branded’.
Not in an advertising sense, but in a real hot metal sado-masochistic sense. I was in the middle of Waitrose remember.
‘No,’ I said, ‘I would not get branded’, although I did have a few very good scars from my Bosch iron.
Hello Eeen….
Todays LBC was all about Halloween. TONY EDWARDS talked about the history of the Pagan festival from The Celts to now, told us a story, sung us a song, the least I could do was invite him back. Rupert Ponsonby carved us a pumpkin. Emma Angel told us about hiring costumes. That the most popular … Read more
Hickory Dickory Dock…..
it’s 23.03, although for the sake of my body clock it’s only 3 minutes past ten.
The clocks go back tonight and I’m pleased about that, an extra hour in bed.
I have to change the time on the cube radio clock in the bedroom.
I did have a round ticking clock that hung on the wall in my bedroom but Debborah, my nearasdamnitson’s paramour left it on the floor in the bathroom, because the tick was too loud, and somebody stood on it!
I have to change the clock on the microwave, the clock on the oven and the read out on my mobile. Back in the cottage there is the oven clock, the terracotta clock on the kitchen wall, the microwave clock, the old clock in the piano room, the fancy french clock in my bedroom, the radio alarm, B’s cube radio clock in the attic and then there’s the telly clock.
all that palava for an extra hour, it takes me that long to reset all the time pieces.